fifty-shades-of-grey

Provocateur or wherever he bought it. The doors open, and I’m facing the foyer of apartmentnumber one.Taylor stands at the double doors as I step out of the elevator.“Good afternoon, Miss Steele,” he says.“Oh please call me, Ana.”“Ana,” he smiles.“Mr. Grey is expecting you.”I bet he is.Christian is seated on his living room couch reading the Sunday papers. He glances upas Taylor directs me into the living area. The room is exactly as I remember it – it’s beena whole week since I’ve been here – but it feels so much longer. Christian looks cool andcalm – actually, he looks heavenly. He’s in a loose white linen shirt and jeans, no shoes orsocks. His hair is tousled and unkempt, and his gray eyes twinkle wickedly at me. He isjaw-droppingly handsome. He rises and strolls towards me, an amused appraising smileon his beautiful sculptured lips.I stand immobilized at the entrance of the room, paralyzed by his beauty and the sweetanticipation of what’s to come. The familiar charge between us is there, sparking slowlyin my belly, drawing me to him.“Hmm… that dress,” he murmurs approvingly as he gazes down at me. “Welcomeback, Miss Steele,” he whispers, and clasping my chin, he leans down and proffers a gentlelight kiss on my lips. The touch of his lips to mine reverberates throughout my body. Mybreath hitches.“Hi,” I whisper as I flush.“You’re on time. I like punctual. Come.” He takes my hand and leads me to thecouch. “I wanted to show you something,” he says as we sit. He hands me the SeattleTimes. On page eight, there’s a photograph of the two of us together at the graduationceremony. Holy crap. I’m in the paper. I check the caption.Christian Grey and friend at the graduation ceremony at WSU Vancouver.I laugh.“So I’m your ‘friend’ now.”“So it would appear. And it’s in the newspaper, so it must be true.” He smirks.Sitting beside me, his whole body is turned toward me, one of his legs tucked under theother. Reaching over, he tucks my hair behind my ear with his long index finger. My bodycomes alive at his touch, waiting and needful.“So, Anastasia, you have a much better idea of what I’m about since you were lasthere.”“Yes.” Where’s he going with this?“And yet you’ve returned.”I nod shyly, and his gray eyes blaze. He shakes his head slightly as if he’s strugglingwith the idea.